


Impossible Things

by lunarknightz



Category: Alice in Wonderland (2010)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarknightz/pseuds/lunarknightz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One should never be late for tea, and other lessons dutifully taught by Alice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyonie17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyonie17/gifts).



I am Alice, but I am not that Alice.

Alice Kingsleigh is my Grandmother, a woman who took the world as her own and charted her own course. In an age where women were little but chambermaids or mothers, she traveled the world, setting up shipping lanes in China and other countries in the far East. Now retired and widowed, she is a beloved but eccentric part of society, hosting the most extravagant tea parties in London.

I am Alice Kingsleigh Martin, named after my Grandmother . I am sixteen, and awkwardly tall and knobby kneed. I am told that I look not unlike my Grandmother when she was young, save the dark hair I inherited from my father. I try to be a good daughter, but I care not for dancing and embroidery or the other skills my mother wants me to master. I am happiest with a pen and a pad of paper, when I am free to write and create my own world. It is my greatest joy and my deepest secret.

My mother would never understand or approve.

___________

I wake to the sound of my mother shouting. I get out of bed and head for the library, to hear what all the ruckus is about.

“Absolutely not!” my mother’s voice is shrill. “She’s far too young to be gallivanting around the world, and soon it will be her season to debut! I won’t jeopardize her future so you can fulfill another of your flights of fancy, Mother!”

“Ha!” My grandmother laughs. “Alice, too young? I took you on adventures when you were a child!”

“And I hated it!” My mother yells. “I was so absolutely grateful when you let me live with Aunt and Uncle, so I could have a normal life! Friends, tutors, a place in society!”

“When you were old enough,” my grandmother says calmly, “I let you choose, daughter, what sort of life you wanted to live. I gave you what would make you happy.”

“I am not you, Mother.”

“And Alice is not you. We all have to chart our own course in life, my dear. We need to let Alice chart hers. Let her come on this trip as my companion. Let her see the world outside of London for herself. I’ll have her back in time for her debut. When she returns, she’ll have much to speak about, and perhaps that will be the certain spark that sets her apart from all of the other debutantes in society.”

“Perhaps.” My mother says quietly, the shrillness gone from her voice. “I shall have to talk it over with Edward.” Edward is my father, who took over control of my Grandmother’s interest in her venture with the Ascot family.

“Naturally.” My grandmother nods. She looks up at the balcony, over by the heavy curtains that I am sure hide me, as I have snuck out of bed to hear what they were saying. My grandmother winks. Somehow, she has seen me.

A month later, I follow my grandmother up the gangplank of a grand ship.

I am to see the world.

 

_________

I have never been so horribly seasick in my life. Of course, this is the first time I’ve ever been on a body of water bigger than a lake. During my sickness, I loose track of days and nights, of direction and time. The rough seas and storms that we sail through only exacerbate my problems.

A wooden bucket has become my constant companion. During the worst of the sickness, Grandmother sits beside me in bed, and rubs my forehead with her soft and cool hands.

She tells me stories about a fantastic world, a world she hasn’t mentioned since I was quite tiny. During the worst of the rough weather, she tells me that I must be brave and continue to fight against illness. Her stories now revolve around a dormouse who could be more dangerous with a sewing needle than the Queen Victoria’s guards! Grandmother shares how Mallymkun fought the bandersnatch, a particularly nasty doglike creature, and won. Her stories are vivid, I have no trouble picturing the brave dormouse with an eyeball trophy attached to her belt.

My seasickness does abate as I grow sea legs, but I shall never look at a mouse as a simple creature again.

__________

Andrew is a fellow passenger. He is from Scotland, and though he speaks English, his words are framed with a brogue. He is not what my friends at home would deem attractive. Andrew’s auburn hair is longer than the style in London, and his clothes, while perfectly decent and serviceable, always seem to be mismatched. His eyes draw me in, one blue and one hazel. But he makes my heart beat faster and when his hands touch mine, they tingle.

For the first time in my life, I want something I can’t have.

He asks me to take a stroll on the deck. I turn him down.

“Go after him.” My grandmother says, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“I can’t.” I explain while fighting back tears. “I want to, but when I get home, I’ll have to debut. Mother and father wouldn’t want..”

“Your parents are far away. You have to follow your heart, Alice. If I wouldn’t have followed my heart, I would have married a perfectly miserable but rich man, and lived a perfectly miserable life. I can’t promise that you and Andrew would live happily forever after, but if you do not take a risk, you’ll be stuck forever wondering if you should have.

I pause for a second and look at Grandmother, letting her words sink in.

“Go.” She advises.

I run and find Andrew looking at the ocean below. Taking a chance, I slip my hand into his. He smiles at me, and I feel like I am flying and falling at the same time.

_____

I attend the most unusual tea party on a tropical island. It is an island that Grandmother visited often on her travels, and she knows the ruler, a woman with extremely pale skin. Most of the islanders have skin that is well tanned from exposure to the sun, but hers is a fine china pale that debutantes would die to have. Grandmother explains that her appearance signals to the others that she is special, and so they look to her for wisdom and guidance.

After Grandmother has finished introducing us to the Queen and her to us, she says, “We must hurry. We must not be late for tea.”

Andrew, Grandmother, and I follow the Queen’s lead. The tea party is seemingly already in progress. “Is it too late?” I wonder aloud.

“The tea party here has no beginning or end. All the same, it is not polite to be late.” She says, and takes a seat in a large wooden looking chair. “Sit.” She motions to us.

We take our seats, the host approaches. He is a short, excitable man with wisps of white hair on his nearly bald head. He greets us graciously. Another person approaches the party, and our host explodes, screaming a phrase of words that is a mixture of the native language and English. I can only decipher the words “LATE FOR TEA!” as he throws a place setting of pottery.

My eyes meet Andrew’s across the table, and I fight back giggles.

Once more, Grandmother’s advice is correct. One should _never_ be late for tea.

 

__________

I find myself strangely silent when we return to London. We are now gone from the ship which has been our home for almost a year. Andrew has left our company, having family responsibilities that keep him from being able to accept our invitation to visit. I am still hopeful of seeing him soon, as I remember the way he kissed me goodbye.

I stare out the window of Grandmother’s carriage. I cannot believe that our journey is over. How can I pretend to be the Alice that left? She is a stranger to me now. I have dreams of Andrew, and dreams of making my little scribblings into something more. I’ve started writing the stories my Grandmother told me, creating the characters of Underland that she describes, and telling the stories of the places I’ve been and seen in the last year.

“Keep calm, Alice.” Grandmother says, squeezing my hand gently. “For just when the caterpillar thought his world was over, he became a butterfly.”

___________

 

I couldn’t stay in the house any longer. My Grandmother’s house has always seemed giant to me, but sitting in the house, listening to my Mother and assorted cousins plan the funeral have made it feel entirely too small.

I escape to the gardens, to the grounds of Grandmother’s house. It is a grand house, one she inherited from Lord Ascot, her business partner for many years, for his son had built a grander house on the other side of London. My Grandmother retired here when she returned from the East and the sea, and had happy years with Grandfather before illness took him. Grandmother would walk and play in this garden with me when I was little.

I can almost hear her voice now, telling me how, if you listened closely enough, the flowers could talk.

Many thought Grandmother curious when she was alive, but I find her death curious, not her life. She did not grow ill and fade away, but rather simply disappeared. There is no sign of her body, no clues for a detective to follow.

My mother thinks it is the work of ruffians. If it were ruffians, I think they would have taken valuables or jewelry. Everything is in order, but Grandmother is missing.

We have been home just a couple of weeks. I was with Grandmother constantly for a year. And now she is gone. How quickly things change. I fight tears that threaten to fall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a white rabbit run by. Remembering Grandmother’s story of the White Rabbit and a journey to Underland. Picking up my skirts, I run after it.

It darts into a rabbit hole, which seems enormously large for a small creature. I kneel beside it for a second, wondering if I should do as Grandmother and start on a journey by falling down this rabbit hole.

“Hello”, I call, and my voice echoes. In my heart, I know that my Grandmother has returned to Underland, where she is probably having tea with those she loved so well. The stories were not fiction. They were real. It is a happy reunion for her, the Alice of her wonderland once more.

Tears catch in my throat. I miss her so much, and I want my Grandmother back.

Do I dare disturb the universe?

I make up my mind. This, I realize, is what my Grandmother was trying to show me. That I am free to make my own decisions, and that only I can give others the power to dictate my life, my future.

I step away from the rabbit hole, for that is someone else’s story. My story is still here, with the promise of Andrew, and of my scribblings being read by eyes other than mine. It seems impossible that my mother will simply step aside and let me govern my own future.

My Grandmother believed six impossible things before breakfast.

I will do the same.


End file.
